


To Have and To Hold

by 3988Akasha



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Angst, Cheating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-03
Updated: 2011-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:38:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the adorable art posted <a href="http://mcfassy.livejournal.com/47964.html">here.</a> And the promised fic based on the art and subsequent discussion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Have and To Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by bones_2_be

It wasn't anything serious, at least not in the beginning. They'd simply had a day off at the same time and gone to a fair; the old-fashioned type with nickel games and portable rides. Together, fingers linked, they'd wandered  around for hours, simply enjoying each other's presence without the constant barrage of people, demands, deadlines - the price of fame. Michael had spotted it first, his face splitting into the shark grin James loved so much. With a gentle tug, Michael'd led James over to one of the games, the one with the bottles and little rings you had to get around the top. James offered Michael an indulgent smile, caught up in Michael's contagious excitement, even if he didn't understand it. When the man running the booth gave Michael three rings, he bit his lip and squared his shoulders, eyes intent on his goal. James hid a laugh behind his hand. Michael tossed the first ring; it landed neatly around one of the bottles. The other two followed suit. James met Michael's determined gaze; he'd _really_ wanted to win the game.

When Michael shoved something soft and fuzzy into his arms, he'd blinked up stupidly, a bit concerned by the way Michael wouldn't meet his eyes. In fact, he'd looked everywhere _but_ at him. James looked down and smiled, his throat tightening a bit. Michael'd won him a stuffed shark, mouth wide open, teeth there for all to see and James had wanted nothing more than to take Michael into a secluded corner and give him a proper thank you.

"He's got nearly as many teeth as you," James had teased.

Michael'd finally looked up, clearly relieved James liked the gift. Which was silly, really, it was something Michael'd won for him at a fair; there was something so adorably _Michael_ about it that James would have loved any little trinket. He vowed to keep it with him always.

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

The shark made its way into his room, and James had to explain that sometimes parents needed stuffed animals, too. With the exuberance and innocence of a child, he'd offered to let one of his stuffed animals keep James' shark company at night. Unable to speak, barely able to breath, James forced a smile and shook his head. When he returned to the master bedroom, the tears in his eyes wanted to fall, but he couldn't let them. She was curled up in bed; she hadn't asked about the shark's sudden appearance in their bed. Either she knew and didn't ask, or she didn't know and refused to ask. James didn't know which he wanted to be true. He fell asleep with the shark held to his chest.

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

Michael hadn't asked for any details when James arrived, the shark held firmly between his arm and side. Maybe he should have asked, but James knew there were dark circles under his eyes, and thankfully Michael did nothing more than open the door for him. Quickly, the shark and his hastily packed duffle landed near the door.  Michael's hands were hot and needy and James moaned at the contact; he hadn't realized exactly how much he'd missed the feel of Michael's arms around him, the feel of Michael's skin beneath his fingertips. They moved awkwardly to the bedroom, a path of clothes behind them, both eager to feel, to taste each other. They'd tumbled into bed, and later lay quietly in each other's arms, sweaty, sated and satisfied. For the first night in months, James fell asleep without the stuffed shark.

"I have my own shark tonight," he whispered into Michael's ear before drifting off to sleep.

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

James lay alone in the middle of their king-sized bed. The shark clutched to his chest. She'd taken his son to a friend's house, told him dad needed some time alone. She'd looked him in square in the eye as she'd said it, eyes sad, but resigned. He gripped the shark tighter, fought the urge to call Michael; he purposefully left his phone in the living room, knowing he'd not move from the bed tonight. Tomorrow, he'd move. Tomorrow. Tonight, he simply held the shark tight.

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

The picture made him happy, an emotion he no longer felt entitled to have. James didn't think too hard about how the image was taken, more specifically who had taken it, just basked in knowing Michael'd received his package. It'd been a spur of the moment decision when he'd seen it in the store. James'd been in the store for something else; then he'd seen it. James shook his head softly at the memory and stared down at the picture, followed the chord of muscle in Michael's arm, and with a fond smile noted the way he took over the entire bed. If he imagined Michael cradled the lab rat stuffed animal tenderly, he felt it was appropriate. He knew the line of those arms, the way they felt when they locked securely around him. Mostly, he knew the stuffed animal would know those arms better than he ever could; he wouldn't ever feel them around him again; she'd made him promise, for their son. Curled up on his side, James fell into a restless sleep comforted only by the fuzzy shark in his arms.

  **~FIN~**


End file.
